


Class A

by TheSleeplessWriter



Series: An Agreement of Sorts [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Corporal Punishment, Discipline, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Punishment, References to Drugs, Spanking, Strapping, mild johnlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-11 03:55:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11706300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSleeplessWriter/pseuds/TheSleeplessWriter
Summary: John doesn't react as well to Sherlock being charged with possession of class A drugs as he would think.





	Class A

John was awoken at 3 in the morning by his phone ringing. With one eye half-open, he glanced at the too bright screen. It was Lestrade, which meant it must be important. John groaned and rubbed at his eyes before answering the phone, his voice gravelly and sleep deprived. "Yes?"  


"Yeah, John. Um... Sherlock's here. We found him high off his rocker on marijuana, with heroin and needles in his coat." Lestrade sounded just as tired, but also rather angry. "His brother's coming by to bail him out, but we're gonna need to do a drugs bust at the flat."

John widened his eyes, waking up completely. Throwing off the blanket, a torrent of colorful curses flew from his mouth. He immediately made his way to Sherlock's room, as he already knows some of the detective's favorite hiding spots.   
                     --------------  
Lestrade stood in the corner of the cell, his arms crossed as watched Sherlock. His high was finally starting to settle down. 

"What the hell were you thinking?" Lestrade asked brusquely, deciding to break the awkward silence.   


"It was just marijuana. I couldn't sleep, so I bought some and made my way home." Sherlock replied, irritation clear in his voice. 

"It's not about the marijuana. It's about the heroin! You'll destroy your life like that." Lestrade was getting more pissed the more he thought of it. "It kills people!"

"It was for an experiment!" Sherlock snapped back, moving on his bench so wouldn't face Lestrade.   


"That's it. I'm phoning John." Lestrade said, being pushed to the end of his tether. He knew John and Sherlock had...some sort of agreement. He didn't ask questions, but he knew that whenever he told John of Sherlock's truly abhorrent behavior, the detective always came back the next day a little more quiet and a little less pompous. He figured John took charge and didn't allow him to get away with everything. 

Lestrade could have sworn he saw a flicker of worry pass through Sherlock's bluish gray eyes. Sherlock did wince at the sound of John's loud cursing. 

"Back at it, brother mine?" A snippish voice emerged from the corner. 

Sherlock sighed and stood as the cell door opened. Mycroft, perfectly dressed in a three piece suit, stood at the doorway. Shoving his way through, Sherlock left the cell and waited next to his brother.   


"This never happened." Mycroft said to the DI in the polite, scary way he always ordered people.  


Lestrade nodded once and led them to the exit, where a sleek black sports car waited for them.   


"You're not allowed on cases for the time being, alright?" Lestrade added as Sherlock got in the car. Like a petulant child, he didn't say anything and just turned to look out the window at the dark streets. 

Once they were on the road, Mycroft cleared his throat.   


"Please, save the lecture." Sherlock interjected rudely before his brother could say a word.

   
Mycroft narrowed his eyes before attempting to speak again. "I'm not taking you to my house, as you might have thought. I'll be taking you back to 221B, where you will be put into Doctor Watson's care."  


Sherlock raised his eyebrows slightly, only later remembering to place his mask of indifference on. Inwardly, he scoffed. Care? John was going to blow his head off.   
                     --------------

The drugs bust team was leaving the flat when Sherlock and Mycroft arrived. 

"Off you go, Sherlock. Try to behave every now and then." Mycroft said from the window before his car sped away. 

John was quietly sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of tea. For some reason, this worried Sherlock more than if he were loud and raging. 

"You know what I found?" John asked, in a strangely amiable tone. Not waiting for an answer, he continued. "A little bag of cocaine underneath the floorboards. Thing is, it was opened and some was missing." 

Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment and repeatedly screamed, "Shit shit shit." in his head. 

John stood from his chair and rubbed at his eyes. He felt his hands shaking from anger. He was much too upset to deliver any kind of punishment. 

"Go take a shower and then came back here." John ordered. It would give him some time to settle down and time for Sherlock to get off the lingering feelings of his high. 

Sherlock turned on his heel and left. Anything to put off facing John's withering look of disappointment.

John watched him leave, wondering if he was really going to go through with what he planned when he found the cocaine. 

Shortly after, Sherlock returned, dark curly hair damp and dressed in his pyjama pants and white t-shirt. In that moment, he looked years younger, and somehow slightly more innocent. 

That's when it hurt even more for John to do this, and he almost thought of just sending Sherlock to bed and forgetting about the whole ordeal. 

"Sherlock, this is a big deal, and I'm not going to let this slide." John started, mustering up his courage and rolling up the sleeves of his blue jumper. 

"It was just marijuana. Bloody hell, you sound like Mycroft." Sherlock sneered, and in an instant, all the youthful innocence was gone. It somehow strengthened John's resolve. 

He pulled the kitchen chair out to the center of the room and sat down in it. "Alright. Come here." John pointed to his jeans-clad lap. "You've earned a spanking."

Sherlock's eyes widened. "You're not serious." He's never gotten a real spanking before, just some swats here and there and many times the threat of one. Most times, when John was upset, he would just scold him or revoke privileges. "It's not like I was using the heroin." 

"You've used it before. You had some on you, as well as the equipment, which obviously means you were planning to use it later." John stated, slowly breathing in and out to calm down. 

"No I wasn't!" Sherlock insisted loudly, crossing his arms. 

"Don't throw a fit, you know you deserve it." John stood and took hold of Sherlock's arm as he pulled him back to the chair. 

John didn't know why he was being so difficult. If Sherlock was truly not okay with it, he could actually use force and leave. John wouldn't stop him. He knew he deserved it, but then again, he has never wanted to go down without a fight. Whenever he acted up and had his lab supplies taken away, Sherlock would argue and complain about the number of days until it drove John mad. 

Sherlock now stood in front of John, not yet over his lap. 

"C'mon." John encouraged, again gesturing to his lap. He wanted Sherlock to willingly lay over it, to submit and show he was okay with it. 

"This is ridiculous." Sherlock muttered before laying over John's knee, placing his hands flat on the ground. He would just bear through it; it surely couldn't be that bad. 

John sighed and placed one hand on Sherlock's back. He didn't really want to do this, but considering that Sherlock could potentially have been jailed for years was more disconcerting. 

"Ready?" John asked, inwardly wanting to delay the process. 

A muffled "Yes." was heard, and John began. He swatted hard at the center of Sherlock's arse a few times. 

Sherlock nearly gasped, but instead bit his lip. This might not be so easy to bear through. 

"Why are you getting this spanking?" John asked, landing a particularly hard smack to his right thigh. 

"Ah— because you blow things out of proportion." Sherlock mumbled after what was almost a yelp. 

John lifted an eyebrow. "Is this really the best time to be sarcastic?" He continued peppering stinging slaps all over the area where his arse and thighs met. 

Sherlock sucked in a breath and tried to focus on elsewhere. It wasn't very easy when his backside was getting smacked. 

He started to wriggle, kicking his legs out a bit and whining under his breath. 

"O-okay John, you've made your point." Sherlock said, hoping for some leniency. 

"Let's try again. Why are you getting spanked?" 

Avoiding the question, the detective childishly shouted, "It was just marijuana!" 

"You really are fixated on this, aren't you? It's not about the marijuana, it's about the class A drugs you're dealing with! What if you miscalculated a dosage? You'd be found dead in the middle of the streets."

"I never miscalculate." Sherlock insisted, which was the exact wrong thing to say. 

John paused and pulled down Sherlock's pyjama pants. A bright pink color crept from his arse to the middle of his thighs. 

"Hey, hey John! That's not necessary!" Sherlock kicked even more and banged his toes against the floor. He tossed a hand back in a weak attempt to cover his arse. John calmly held Sherlock's hand in the small of his back and kept going. The noise was louder and more sharp. 

"Mmph." Sherlock muffled his cries by keeping his mouth shut as much as possible. Hiding his distress did not last long. 

His yelps were louder and more prevalent as the spanking kept going. John stopped and rubbed at the curly head that was bent to the floor. 

"Okay, get up." 

Sherlock's face was flushed and his eyes were red and glittery with unshed tears. There was even the occasional sniffle.

"Done?" There was a pitiful amount of hope in that question. 

John shook his head. "Almost." He stood from his chair and began to undo his belt. 

"John, there is a time and a place to shag, and frankly, this isn't it." Sherlock somehow was still able to make a joke, even though his voice cracked like a teenage boy's. 

John gave a small smile. The cheeky bastard. He led Sherlock to the couch and carefully bent him over the arm. He handed Sherlock a throw pillow, which he gratefully took and shoved his face in. 

John made the belt into a loop and placed his hand on Sherlock's back, thinking it could be a small comfort. 

Ten, John thought. Ten and this could all be done. 

He let the belt fly, and it made a terrifying cracking sound. A dark, almost red stripe formed on the top of his arse. 

"Agh!" Sherlock groaned. The belt fell again, and he stomped his feet and moaned. 

"Why are you getting a spanking?" John asked for the third time, landing another strike near his thighs. 

"Because I was handling class A drugs, and hid them in the flat." Sherlock finally said, his voice shaky. It sounded like he was starting to cry. 

Another lash wrenched out an apology. "I'm sorry, John! I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry!" He wailed, kicking his feet at the sofa. 

"Will you ever mess with class A drugs again?" John asked softly, not having the heart to deliver the final strikes. 

"No!" He cried out, burying his face into his pillow. 

John put the belt down and gently lifted Sherlock's pants. He rubbed at his back, allowing Sherlock to let it all out. 

He eventually stood, shamefaced and scrubbing at his cheeks with the back of his knuckles. 

"Shh sh, come here." John enveloped Sherlock in a warm embrace. 

"I'm sorry." Sherlock repeated quietly, nuzzling his cheek against the top of John's head. 

"I know. I forgive you. I'll go get you a cuppa. I don't think either of us is getting any more sleep tonight." John said warmly, leaving to the kitchen. 

He soon returned with the promised cup of tea and placed it on the coffee table. Sherlock, wincing terribly, sat in John's lap and dug his pale face into his blogger's neck. John smiled and kissed the crown of his head. Before they knew what had happened, they both fell asleep and the tea went cold.

**Author's Note:**

> Another fic, so soon? I know. I had the urge to write a full Sherlock/John spanking scene, and thought of a story this morning. Feel free to leave comments, kudos, and constructive criticism. :)


End file.
